


Care in its Many Forms

by DiademSerpent



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Cats, Episode: s02e03 The Swedish Job, Family Fluff, Gen, Platonic Bed Sharing, Store bought soup hate, hurt/comfort but it's basically just comfort, no beta we die like ben
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:40:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25732255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiademSerpent/pseuds/DiademSerpent
Summary: It takes only a second of patience before he hears movement, and only a second later he sees the Target, Vanya Hargreeves. He takes aim, pulls the trigger, and barely has enough time to register the look in Vanya’s eyes before-Nothing.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 98





	Care in its Many Forms

**Author's Note:**

> This one goes out to all of you who watched season 2 and then went "yknow? I actually want more of these Swedish bois" The motivation hit hard enough with this one that I just wacked it out at 4 am for no reason.
> 
> To clear up the issue of age before the fic even starts I want to clarify I made up a sort of age order for them? They are called triplets at one point but I can't believe that looking at them, but the fic should work even if you want to take them as triplets, cause triplets still have a birth order. Regardless:  
> Otto is the oldest (the one who dies in Allison & Rays house), Axel is the middle child (the last one standing), and Oscar is the youngest (the first casualty).
> 
> and lastly a tiny disclaimer: i am neither swedish nor a historian by any means, I literally just wrote shit at 4am and went "thats good!"

The Target's smart enough to not crash through the maize stalks, trying to make as little noise as possible, but it isn't going to work. They've hunted plenty of prey at night, killed plenty of targets, and when it's three against one it's a simple thing to circle around and close in. Even if it takes all night, eventually the Target will get tired, they'll slip up, and then they'll die. Axel hears bullet fire and tracks it, the target it’s following, takes a few steps down the crop row and angles his torch upwards so that it just barely shines at the bottom of the maize. It takes only a second of patience before he hears movement, and only a second later he sees the Target, Vanya Hargreeves. He takes aim, pulls the trigger, and barely has enough time to register the _look_ in Vanya’s eyes before-

 _Nothing_.

He wakes up to being jostled. While not the usual wake up call, it is far from the worst, a title which goes to one night that he’d rather forget from Before (he'd like to forget most of Before, to be honest).Then there’s a sharp, sudden movement, and his head hits a wall, or a corner, hits _something_ , which thrusts him straight into actual awareness. Awareness of the throbbing pain down his back and side, the sharp sting to the side of his forehead where something just hit him, the pressure of someone's hand digging into his armpits and shoulders as they hold him up, the much lesser pressure on his legs. 

Axel drags in a breath, holds it and then releases slowly before he opens his eyes and looks up. Oscar smiles upside down above him, and there isn’t a hint of apology anywhere in him (he wasn’t really expecting there to be any, but a man could hope). There should have been no way for his head to be hit considering Oscar is supporting his upper body, and his head is now resting on his younger brother's stomach, so there’s no doubt that it was purposeful. Meanwhile Otto is struggling to close the door with one hand while supporting both of Axel’s legs on one arm, which has him bent down to make up for the height Oscar is holding him at. (useless, the both of them). Judging by Oscar’s huff of laughter, those thoughts are clearly painted on his face.

Axel takes pity and shifts his leg and slides it off of Otto’s arm, allowing his older brother to notice and quickly turn from the door so that by the time Axel has one leg steady on the ground, Otto can gently lower the other. At the same time, Oscar heaves upwards so that within a second Axel finds himself balancing on his own two feet again. Every bruise comes alive at once and he grimaces, swaying slightly with the effort it takes to not let his knees buckle. Oscar slides himself under one of Axel's arms without hesitation, and leads him around to the main room to the sound of the front door finally being shut and locked.

Oscar leads him to one of the plush armchairs, the one closest to the door that‘s next to the couch, and then swoops down to pick up two cats from the chairs pillows and stands pointedly. Axel isn’t used to seeing this level of concern from his younger brother, but a glance at Otto proves that it’s mirrored on his older brother as well. He supposes it’s understandable, considering the fact that he has no idea _what_ happened with the Target, so it’s doubtful his brothers know what happened either. He briefly considers arguing about the coddling, but exhaustion drags on his senses, making him drop into the chair without a word.

It’s soft, and comfortable, and he sinks into it with a small sigh. Even though his weight puts pressure on some of the worst bruises on his back, it’s nice to close his eyes and let muscles slowly relax. It makes the varying pains easier to ignore, to place them in a box and bury them as deep as possibly. If only ignoring the feeling also made muscles less sore.

He doesn’t even realise he’s falling asleep until there’s four jabs to his chest. His hand darts up and meets soft fur, delicate skin and the skinny body of one of the cats. It’s nose is wet and cold where it bumps into his hand, and when it moves to rub its forehead against him he rubs behind its ears. The cats are greedy for attention, eager to be touched the same way they’re eager to be fed. They’re strange creatures. He doesn’t know what the woman did to them to make them so skeletal, make their fur so short, give them such oddly big ears and eyes. He thinks of cats as creatures with far more fur to them, and with a more predatory look than these things, which meow and shed and constantly get in the way. 

Axel opens an eye. The cat’s a grey and white thing, with big blue eyes. Her little rat's tail curled under her as she sits and starts kneading his vest. Oscar is grinning down at him, hands busy with a brown spotted cat that purrs loud enough that Axel can hear it. “Smulan,” his younger brother says quietly, raising the brown cat slightly, then he nods his head at the grey one, “Maja.”

Axel nods once, continuing to pet Maja. She blinks, slowly, then starts up a slow rumbling purr that doesn’t quite match Smulan’s. Oscar’s grin grows, and the _love_ in that expression is unmissable, but there’s a teasing edge to his eyes that Axel takes as _aren’t you soft,_ which he rolls his eyes at. It makes Oscar's grin break into a real, proper smile, and he moves around the armchair to sit on the couch to Axel’s left.

In between blinks, the cat a solid weight on his chest, time slips by. He doesn’t remember what time they went out to hunt, has even less clue how much time it took to get back, and now lets more time fly by. The very first rays of dawn pass through the windows.

He comes back to full awareness when a hand clasps his shoulder, jolting upright and sending Maja tumbling to his lap. She looks up at him, betrayed, then turns her back and perches on his legs, looking like a disgruntled roast chicken. Oscar’s at his right, and his brother's hand moves to pet Maja, who leans into the touch so much that she looks briefly like she might fall, but rights herself the moment Oscar takes his hand away. Otto stands in front of him, holding a bowl of something in both hands. Chicken soup, by the smell. Axel turns his head away. The bowl moves closer.

He turns, this time towards Otto, staring him in the eyes. _No_ , he says, _store bought tastes like shit_. Oscar grins from beside him, leaning down to scratch Maja behind the ear again.

Otto frowns, pushes the bowl a bit closer, _it tastes fine, you’re just picky_. The bowl moves a bit closer, and then Otto meets Oscar’s eye and gestures towards the kitchen across the room.

Oscar recoils slightly at the implication, glancing between the kitchen and the bowl and then both Axel and Otto, _we’re just eating soup?_

Otto nods at the same time that Axel shakes his head. The oldest sighs, then motions Oscar to the kitchen and extends the bowl towards Axel again. 

He rolls his eyes, takes the bowl. Otto smiles at it, waiting until Axel takes a spoon into his mouth before leaving towards the kitchen. The soups oily on his tongue, has a certain aftertaste that he can’t place as anything but _fake_. The noodles taste a bit like sand, the chicken slightly rubbery. It is not good soup, by any means. On the other hand, he’s now realising how hungry he is (and he’s thankful for the soup, if a little confused by the timing).

Otto and Oscar come back from the kitchen each with their own bowls, and sit on the couch beside him after they’ve gently batted the invading cats off it, though it doesn’t take long for them to flood back as soon as both brothers sit down. Otto moves to hold the bowl high above their heads and stares down at them with something approaching confusion, while Oscar takes a spoon of soup and picks the chicken meat off it to offer to Smulen, who takes the meat and jumps onto the coffee table to chew on it. When one of the cats tries to get a closer sniff at the bowl, the youngest moves it down so that it’s in easy reach of the cat, prompting it to stick its entire face in the bowl and come up licking its lips. That seems to be the limit for Otto, who hits the back of Oscar’s head and then points at the bowl.

They eat slowly, taking their time for all the interruptions. Maja decides she’s had enough time to get over her betrayal and moves back, curling up in his lap now that he’s sitting up and she can’t reach his chest. Between spoons of chicken soup he rubs her cheek with a finger, which is all that he can spare considering the spoon occupying one hand and bowl held in the other (she purrs a little, a stumbling lazy thing that falters with her breathing).

Maja however also leaves him with a bit of a dilemma when he’s done, as he can’t get up without dislodging her, but isn’t going to sit with an empty bowl either. In the time it takes for him to consider throwing her off Oscar decides to save him, swooping in to take both the bowl and spoon and stopping to raise a brow, to which Axel shakes his head, so Oscar takes both to the sink. Maja’s salvation doesn’t last long though, as a few seconds later Otto puts his bowl in the sink and then stands in front of Axel, motioning him up. 

He gently picks Maja up, and she wriggles unhappily, meowing at him in a dismayed tone as he sets her aside on the couch (it feels cruel in a way that sheathing knives in eye sockets doesn't). Rolling his sleeves up at the sink, Oscar sends him a slightly unhappy look.

Standing up sets fire to his back and shoulders again, lancing down to his hips and through the back of his legs. It feels like he fell and tumbled down a building, though the last thing he remembers is being in a field. Otto catches one of his arms in support, but then tugs at the lapel of Axel’s coat. Which he had forgotten he was wearing. Before Otto can move to pull it off, Axel places a hand on his brothers then raises a brow, _why all this_.

Otto smiles gently, a small thing that says, _you’re hurt_ , and then the look in his eyes adds, _you’d do it for us_ . Axel can’t argue with that. He would kill for his brothers, but he’d also care for them when they were hurt. They’re family. He might usually be the one caring for them, but that's only because they tend to get hurt more than him. Otto rolls his eyes as if he can tell exactly what Axel is thinking and the small smile he’s wearing grows a tiny bit further, _you always care for us, let us care for you_. 

It takes a second, but Axel moves his hand off his brothers, allowing Otto to slowly slip the coat from his shoulders. He unbuttons his vest while the coat is thrown over one of the dining chairs, and then lets Otto help him with taking that off as well. He sits back down for the shoes, clenching his teeth through the aching pain in his back to unlace one while Otto undoes the other, then leaning back to let his brother throw them both off and to the side.

Oscar joins them at that point, drying his hands on a towel, toeing off his own shoes before leading the way upstairs, turning back briefly just to make eye contact. Axel hesitates, but Otto pulls him up from the seat and then nudges him towards the stairs. He trudges up slowly, weaving around the various cats on the steps and then he’s in the small hallway that leads to three rooms on the upper floor. 

The first door leads to a bathroom, painted a hideous shade of pink that only highlights the griminess. The next leads to a guest room, but the one bed inside it emphasises the fact that it is barely a refurbished closet, both in floor space and general atmosphere. The last door however, leads to the larger bedroom, which is of decent enough size to fit a king sized bed, which is sturdy even if covered in pink patterned sheets (it doesn’t look _awful_ , apart from the fact that it _does_ ).

Axel barely makes it through the door before Oscar is grabbing his arm and dragging him towards the bed, and he huffs at the treatment but allows himself to be lead. He lowers himself gently onto the bed, crawling to the middle of it and then collapsing onto his stomach, resting his head on his forearms in a way that’s comfortable even if it also stings slightly. He watches Oscar for a while, as his younger brother searches the previous owners shelves and comes back with a book that his brother sets down on the one nightstand, before closing his eyes. The pain fades, like before, to background noise.

The bed dips first on one side and then on the other as Oscar steps over him. His brother then flings himself down on his left, which makes the mattress jolt and launches Axel up a slight bit, making every muscle tense. He turns his head, fixing Oscar with a glare. His brother just grins back. Axel gives up, closes his eyes and sighs. 

He feels Oscar scramble towards the foot of the bed, feels the weight shift of something being picked up, and there’s a quiet, small meow. His younger brother sets the cat free onto the bed, and now there's the small indents made by it to track as well, and his brother leans over and seems to pick up two or three more of the creatures before being satisfied and moving back to sit against the headrest. Despite the new menagerie taking over the bed, Oscar does herd them away from Axel, he feels the way his brother springs forward when any of the cat-indents move too close to his back. One of the cat’s moves closer, and settles down near his chest, under one of his arms, unblocked by Oscar. He cracks open an eye, and sees grey and white, nose tucked under her rat tai (she purrs too, steady and loud)l.

The door opens, closes again, then there's three steps that reach the bed before a hand reaches to pick up the book off the nightstand, and then a dip in the bed on his right that means Otto settling in. Axel turns and looks at his brother, who’s sitting up with his legs stretched out, and Otto meets his eye with such love and care he’d be embarrassed if not for the fact that he knows he has the same look. The oldest brother turns back to the book then, and when Axel glances at it it’s not one he recognises, definitely not from the back, and when Otto turns the cover towards him he still can't make it out (the picture is a mess of colours and his head aches when he tries to focus on the black and white of the title) so he closes his eyes back up and settles down to sleep. Otto starts reading not long after, and he feels Oscar squirm upwards and lean over him so that the youngest can look at the book, to which Otto responds by holding it above Axel just enough that Oscar can sit back.

Like that, to the occasional stammer of Otto’s english reading, with the pain in his back slowly fading, and the gentle purr of the cats that have flocked to the bed, Axel falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't respect canned soups. They're probably not all atrocious but the few I've had have been horrible. Don't talk to me unless you're making the broth by simmering meat and vegetables over an extended period of time.
> 
> This fic is also hilarious inaccurate to real life because absolutely no younger brother would voluntarily do the dishes. None.


End file.
